The Lesser Sex
by tcarlson
Summary: Bellatrix had to prove that as a female she had the right to be a Death Eater. And she did. Over and over again. But does it matter in the end?


It was a calculated move to join the Death Eaters. I was just seventeen at the time and in the middle of my sixth year at Hogwarts. I was young and inexperienced. That much was enough to dissuade many of my Slytherin acquaintances from joining. They decided to wait until after graduation to take the Mark. But what should have stopped me –or what _everyone_ said shouldhave stopped me- was the fact that I am female.

There has only been one other female Marked besides me. Ever. With good reason. He had always expected more from me and Alecto Carrow because we are female. We've had to prove that we are in fact _not_ the lesser sex again and again. Others wouldn't have been able to handle it, but he figured we could.

I understood why he Marked Alecto. She was always more of a tomboy than a proper Pureblood lady like the rest of us, always stomping around Hogwarts with the boys and earning a reputation that rivaled even her brother's when it came to cruelty. No Pureblood family would ever consider her as a proper match for their sons. Marriage was not an option for her. I think he understood that if he Marked Amycus, then he would need to Mark Alecto as well. The Carrows came as a set.

Alecto was accepted into the ranks without much questioning. She proved her right to be there often.

Narcissa, Andromeda, and I were destined to enter well-planned marriages that would advance the House of Black. We were raised to attract rich, powerful Purebloods. Narcissa never questioned it and made quite a match with Lucious Malfoy. I couldn't think of anything that sounded less appealing than marriage. Who wanted to sit around in an old drafty manor all day when your magic could be used to advance the goals of the greatest wizard to walk the earth? (And we never talk about Andromeda, who ran off with a filthy Muggle to escape an arranged marriage that would have been quite prosperous.)

My father, too old to serve the Dark Lord himself and lacking any sons to offer to serve in his stead, was supportive when I announced my intention to join the Death Eaters. My mother, the well-trained wife she was, needed very little coercing into letting me at least have an interview to determine if I was Death Eater material. Through family ties, it was arranged that I was to meet the Dark Lord in person for him to see if I was worthy.

I was to arrive alone in a little clearing in some woods not far from Hogwarts. I snuck out of the castle and Apparated to the spot well before the intended time. I was early, but as soon as my feet touched ground again, a shadow detached itself from the trees and stepped in front of me.

I was instantly hooked. The power he radiated mesmerized me. Somewhere deep in my consciousness I knew that I was in trouble of losing myself because of the man in front of me.

The night flew by in a blur. I don't remember much. He had me show off my spell work and tested the limits of my conscience. I showed how far I was willing to go to prove myself with a batch of unlucky Muggles and Squibs.

He seemed satisfied with me. I was more than competent to complete any task that he may give me as a Death Eater, but it was most likely the stories of the Black family madness that got me my Mark. If my relatives were crazy enough to do even half the things that were rumored, then I might be worth the risk just based on my genetic predisposition for insane risks.

I was Marked the week after but wasn't utilized until after graduation. With every successful task, I rose in the ranks. My life revolved around pleasing him.

I was so obsessed with him that I would literally do anything for him. Torture? No problem. Maim? Sure. Kill? Of course, my Lord. Every new assignment got more intense, more _wrong_, but I would turn my wand on myself if he asked me to. The sane part of me retreated to a safe, quiet place in my mind. I let the Black madness consume me as a coping mechanism. Who cared about the state of your mind when you could get a compliment from him?

By this time, I stood next to him in the circle during meetings. I got first choice of victims to torture and was usually the one who was honored with the privilege of casting the final curses to kill an important captive. He loved to watch me work. He told me he had never seen anyone more creative or graceful in granting death to those who deserved it.

One night, six months after graduation, I killed a Ministry official as the meeting's entertainment. I stood over the dead body, splashed in blood and flying on the high of the kill when he ordered everyone to leave the room… except for me.

"You are so beautiful," he told me when everyone else had left us. "When you kill, it's so erotic. You know how to manipulate the body with such finesse."

He took me then. Right there on the floor. In the puddle of blood. Next to the body.

The affair that followed was entirely on his terms. I could be called to his bedroom or office or any number of random places at any time. He'd ask for me when he was angry, stressed, happy, bored. I was at his beck and call.

And I loved it. I couldn't get enough. I'd start to worry when it'd be more than a day or two and he didn't want me. I craved him all the time. It felt like life literally wasn't worth living if I was away from him.

"Rodolphus Lestrange has been asking about you," he told me nonchalantly one day as I was dressing after one of our liaisons.

"My Lord?"

"He, like myself, has noticed your gifts of beauty and intelligence and power. He has asked for my permission to marry you. I have acquiesced."

Inside I was screaming "No! No! No!" but one did not go against the Dark Lord's word. With a soft tremble of the lip, I replied, "As you wish."

He caught my wrist. "This does not mean I am asking you to give up you rightful place in my ranks. Nor does it mean that I will give up my right to take you when I please. This marriage will mean nothing except to placate Lestrange and 'reward' him for his faithfulness."

So I married Rodolphus. He worshipped me as a goddess. I wanted for nothing. And the Dark Lord was right when he said nothing would change. The only difference was that I lived in a magnificent manor with magnificent things. I never even consummated the marriage. My body was for my Lord alone and Rodolphus respected that.

Disaster struck on October 31, 1981. A _toddler_ destroyed my beloved Lord. I sat in shock for days, not moving from the settee in my bedroom and staring at my dormant Mark. Slowly, anger built and I knew I needed to do _something_ before I exploded from the rage inside me. I dragged Rodolphus and his brother to a family of the Order's and cast the Cruciatus Curse on them until they no longer had higher brain functions. We left them in the nursery with their wailing child and I hoped that they all starved to death in a slow and painful manner.

I was reckless in my grief. My stupidity caused us to be captured and tried for that deed. I didn't even deny it at the trial. What did it matter if I wallowed in my depression in a fancy manor or in a cell in Azkaban?

Years blew by in a haze. I don't remember much of my time there. I snapped back into reality when one day my Mark burned. It burned! My Lord had somehow returned!

Nothing, not even Azkaban prison, was going to keep me from him. I broke out with a few other Death Eaters and rejoined him as soon as I was able.

He welcomed me back with opened arms. He knew I was the most faithful of us all. And everything went back to normal. I was back in his bed where I belonged and back in the field to help him triumph over the world.

And triumph we did. Harry Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord in 1981 was a fluke. This time we defeated him effortlessly. He was after all just a schoolboy. He was not any more special than any of the other brats at Hogwarts. It was only a matter of time after that before we crushed the rest of the Order and took over the Ministry. From England we moved on to the rest of Europe. The world fell at our feet. It's amazing how much faith they put into a young child.

I was ecstatic for my Lord. The world was his. He could make the changes that he had been preaching about for decades.

When he didn't call for me the first few days after the ultimate victory, I didn't fret. It was a lot of work to rule the entire world. Surely he would ask for my company when things settled down a bit.

A week passed.

A month passed.

I stormed into his headquarters after two months, looking for answers. He didn't even look up from the parchment he was reading when I slammed my palms onto the desk.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked tiredly, as if he were humoring a small child.

"You haven't seen me for months," I nearly whined.

He looked up at me then. "Why would I need to see you? You've done your job. The fieldwork is finished. Now all that's left is governing business and you are not suited for that."

"I know I am limited use to the cause now, but I thought you'd _want_ to see me."

"For?"

I nearly stamped my foot in disbelief. "For me!" I gestured to my body for emphasis.

"Ah. I see." He put down his quill and leaned back in the chair. "That was all well and good during wartime, Bellatrix, but now we have a different set of obligations to see to."

"I don't understand…"

"Go home to your husband. Produce the next generation of leaders for this new world. Be the wife that you were meant to be when you married Rodolphus. If there is a special execution, I will see that you are called to carry it out, but otherwise, I do not wish to see you. We all have duties that we must perform. Be a good girl and listen."

Girl. That's all I was to him. My usefulness had run out. I was to follow in Narcissa's footsteps and be a housewife and have children. I never meant anything to him except as a convenient stress-reliever.

As much as I wanted to stay and fight to be more than just a _girl_, I still could not deny him anything. He wanted me to be no more than an empty-headed, obedient, baby-making drone? Fine.

I was numb as I turned and left the room. I was numb as I returned home and let my husband have intercourse with me for the first time ever. I was numb as I welcomed my first son into the world. I was numb when my son was hand-picked to be the second-in-command in England. I was numb.

Because that's all a woman could be in the Voldemort-dominated world. We were told what to do, when to do it, even how to do it. It didn't matter what we had accomplished in the past. It didn't matter that I was once the most faithful or the most talented in his ranks. It only mattered that I was female.

I had proved myself.

It didn't matter.


End file.
